Breath Test by Marnie Pohlmann

I am not a fan of exercise, but a few years ago, my town became the focus of a television show called “Village on a Diet.” My husband and I joined other townsfolk to learn about healthy living. Together we climbed hills, built community gardens, hiked, and ate tofu (yuck!) Every Sunday afternoon we gathered to walk or run about four kilometers. Taping a television show was a lot of fun, and some lifestyle changes did stick, but the best part was the building of community – learning who our neighbours were and encouraging one another to a healthier lifestyle.

During that time, I learned about the “walking breath test.” While you are exercising, if you can carry on a conversation you are doing alright. If your heart is racing and you are gasping for breath, you may be able to continue for a little while more, but you soon need to slow down to recover. Of course, as I exercised more regularly, I was able to walk further, faster, and still visit with my co-panting friends.

Many writers use the healthy exercise of personal journals to process their daily lives – the good, the bad, the ugly, the painful, and the celebrations. The question is, at what point do we share that personal breathing of our heart and soul?

Like the walking breath test, I use a writing breath test. If, as I write my story, state my position, or share my heart, tears course down my cheeks, I am stretching my feelings with those tears as a healthy cleansing of emotional toxins, much like exercise sweat. However, if I begin to huff with anger, or sob in sorrow, I need more time before I share that writing with others. If I am not able to read the words aloud, or I leave my writing desk to kick the dog or eat a gallon of ice cream, those are signs I am not ready to carry on that particular conversation. When my feelings are still raw as I write, overwhelming me with grief, depression, or anger, my words may cause injury. I need to slow down to continue my recovery – to pray, heal, submit, and process through God’s eyes, what I am writing.

This may be one reason I have not (yet?) established my own personal blog. The temptation to publish in the passion of the moment is strong, but is sure to leave me gasping in pain, raging over injustice, or misrepresenting my Lord. You see, my heart daily battles with the black of sin, and while Christ has washed me white as snow, I still bleed red with emotion. Like the song I learned as a child says, I need to “be careful little mouth what you say.”

I can honestly share the secrets and angst of my past and present, the wheezing of my soul, to encourage others as God leads. There are times, though, when God gives me a very clear "not yet", "be quiet" or even “shut up” – because either I am not ready to speak or someone is not ready to hear. When the time and place is right, I believe my words will heal, not harm others or myself.

So as I share stories or lessons from my most personal journals that are my heart breaths, I continue to apply the writing breath test.


photo credits:
Lose Weight Now - photopin.com creativecommons.org
Crying - photopin.com creativecommons.org
Be Still Journal - Marnie Pohlmann

In This Place by Lynn J Simpson

A breathing of my heart at 16 yrs old;

Hope is not the closing of our eyes of risk, difficultly or failure. It is the trust that if I fail now, I will not fail forever; that if I am hurt, I shall be healed; that life is good and love is powerful; and I shall find myself, and others, and God.

 And 30 years later;

 Friends draw my eyes to the abundant skies. So often I fill my plate with a heap of doing but what gives me more nutrition is a mountain of being. Friends keep me centred on the journey, vividly colouring my skies daily. Friends are true treasures and blessings from God!

 And six month ago;

 

Jesus, help me to love as You call me to love and not to cause breaking of the unity of the oneness You call us for. For I know my heart longs for that unity, that oneness is how you made us. But my sinfulness, my un-forgiveness destroys that unity. Help me to extend graciousness because You call me to, not for my own expectations of what I think is 'right.' Help me be righteous as You call me to be, not self-righteous which only breaks the unity. And continue to heal my heart Lord as You are my healer and redeemer. Amen

 And today;

 Even in the dryness of this place, separated from the crowd, where words do not form but instead, I feel only the rising of my chest with each breath and the beats of my heart with each step.  Even in this solitary place You have led me, where pleasures do not form, where human comfort does not exist, where I can’t find You in the song, in the worship, and can only sit in church and cry. Even in this silent place, I know that life is good and love is powerful; that You are refining me, correcting me, leading me to living Waters.  And I keep my eyes open in hope of You turning this desert into a fruitful garden. Even in this place, I breathe in; I look up to the abundant sky. And my heart beats.

 

Breathings-of-My-Heart, Where Are You? by Joylene M. Bailey

Sometimes I can’t hear the breathings of my heart for the screamings of my head.

From the moment I wake up in the morning the incessant yammering begins running through my brain.

Two deadlines to meet by Sunday. Gotta get crackin’!

Get groceries for the Care Group dinner on Friday.

Meet Christine for lunch.

Go through that box in the closet.

Find my pearl necklace for the wedding. Who was the last person I lent it to?

Answer that email.

Library books due. Pay the credit card bill. Make sure his dress pants areironed.Findoutwherethatsmelliscomingfrom.Mailthatpackage.Gotothebank.Takethecattothevetwatertheplantsphonemomdefrostchicken...

STOP!!!

I go to my favorite chair, open my Bible, ask God to speak. 

I listen to the breathings of His heart. 

Aahh. 

And then …

There you are, breathings-of-my-heart!